Page 118 of Smitten with the Single Dad

It was as smooth a landing as Wyatt had ever seen, but it sure kicked up a lot of dust. He’d been in sandstorms in the Middle East and this rivaled some of them.

The passengers waited until most of the dust settled before the door opened and the stairs dropped down.

Wyatt jogged up to meet them.

Barnes came out first. He was what most women would probably call a “silver fox” with dark-gray eyes that, like Mal’s nose hair, shimmered silver in the sunlight.

“Wyatt?” Barnes asked, reaching the ground and extending his hand.

Wyatt nodded. “Nice to meet you. Thank you so much for your help.”

“Absolutely. If we can do more, just ask. If more women come forward, we’re more than happy to pick them up by jet and take them wherever they need to go.”

The second person down the stairs was a younger woman, probably twenty-seven, maybe thirty. She had thick, dark hair with caramel streaks and chocolate-brown eyes. And she looked absolutely terrified.

“Ms. Sanchez,” Wyatt greeted her. “Thank you so much for agreeing to help Vica. I know this couldn’t have been an easy choice.”

She swallowed and her gaze shifted sideways before settling back on Wyatt. “You’re sure he’s dead?”

“Who? Track? Oh, he’s definitely dead.”

She exhaled. “Good. I’ll do whatever I can to help the woman that finally took him down.”

Well, maybe they needed to lead with that when they approached Track’s other victims.

The last person off the plane had to be Barnes’ wife, Brier. She was also very pretty with light-brown hair, and pale, moss-green eyes that she hid behind thick-rimmed glasses.

Wyatt extended his hand one-by-one to each one and thanked them again for coming.

“We’re just heading back to Oregon. So keep us posted if you need someone else picked up. We have nowhere to be until mid-September, so we’re at your disposal,” Barnes said, tipping his head, though it didn’t seem like it was directed at Wyatt.

Wyatt turned his whole body around—because that was how he was supposed to pivot—to see Mal pulling back the drapes and peeking out at all of them.

“I take it that is our Runway King?” Barnes said with a chuckle.

“And he guards it like a dragon guards gold. I had to pay him in beer to use it.”

“My kind of currency.” Barnes was all smiles.

Wyatt snapped his fingers. “That reminds me …” He left them standing there and carefully jogged over to Clint’s truck where he pulled out a mixed-pack case of beer. “Your payment.”

Brier snickered. “You men and your payment in booze.”

“I’m happy with it if he is,” Barnes said, accepting it from Wyatt.

They chatted for a few more minutes, but it felt like they were pushing their luck with Mal. So Barnes and Brier said their goodbyes and boarded the plane. Wyatt helped Evie with her suitcase, and they waited in Clint’s truck until the jet had turned around and was back up in the air.

“S-so, how did it happen?” Evie asked as she and Wyatt rumbled down the gravel runway toward the main road.

“How did what—oh! Uh … a punch to the throat. She, uh … she broke his hyoid bone, and he couldn’t breathe, then suffocated to death.” Wyatt only side-glanced at Evie, but it was enough to see her exhale and relax.

And, was that a smile on her face?

“I, um … I heard what he did to you. What happened. And I am … words cannot express my sympathies, or how truly sorry I am for you.”

She stiffened again. “Thank you. But, the man is dead—finally—so he cannot hurt anyone else. However, he also does not deserve to be remembered as a hero or a good person. He deserves for the world to know of his indiscretions. Of his entire family’s indiscretions. That the Crofts are a family of monsters. Every last one of them.”

Well, that was an interesting way of putting things. Did Evie have a run-in with one of Track’s brothers? Or even his father?

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